LADY DIANA'S DIAMONDS. Chapter I.

Otago Witness, Issue 1942, 7 February 1889, Page 33

LADY DIANA'S DIAMONDS. Chapter I.

West Mallion is a sleepy, easy-going little rod-brick town, that lies sunning itself on the southern slope of a hill. A cycling tourist now and then wheels himself into view, gingerly skirting the cobble stones; the three young ladies from the rectory, with their baskets and red memorandum books, tudge past in a violent hurry, on parish work intent; and occasionally the great barouche and pair from Mallionhay rumbles in majestically, with handsome Lady Diana Mallion aud her pretty daughter, Miss Muriel Dasent, come to do as much shopping as the enterprise of the West Mallion tradesmen will allow them. The Mallions always deal in the place, "like real gentlefolk as they are," the landlord of the Mallion Arms is wont to observe approvingly on these occasions. And then he goes on to recall the good old time as he remembers them before Sir Henry's accident, when open house was kept at Mallionhay, and there was coming .and going, and the carriages and horses of guests oveflowed the Mallionhay stables into those of the Mallion Arms, and money changed hands merrily. In those good old times before the dark, d^rk day when Sir Henry killed King Cole, the best horse in his stable, in Farmer Tippinge's gravel pit alongside Withal Spinney— not to speak of damaging his own head to that extent that all the j London doctors couldn't rightly say whether they could, ever get the sense back into it ag*in. t " ,

Then, perhaps by way of illustration to the story, a glimpse might be had of poor 3ir Henry himself, lying back in a corner of the carriage amongst his cushions, a silk cap pulled low over his brow to conceal the cruel scars left by the horse's trampling hoofs ; the dim ghost of his jovial smile crossing his face now and then when his wife called his attention to some friendly greeting, or he vaguely recognised some familiar object. It was a piteous sight. Lady Diana did not care to let him be seen too often. She would more frequently ride into the town alone, or accompanied by her young daughter, a slight, graceful slip of a lass with a sweet, wilful, spoilt-child face, and great dusky, inscrutable eyes. " Nothing to her mother," mine host would opine, his reminiscences forthwith meandering back to the best of all old times when Sir Henry married his beautiful wife, an earl's daughter and the widow of John Dasent, the richest man in London— though he, the narrator, was given to understand that her money did nobody any particular good, being all tied up tight by the lawyers for Miss Muriel, who wouldn't get it till she came of age the year after next. The Mallion Arms stands in the marketplace, of course ; and at its lowest and most retired corner is the dark, small- paned window of " Mark Serafton, watchmaker and jeweller." Within, Mr Mark Serafton himself is generally to be found— a sedate, pale, and gentlemanly young man, concerning whom West Mallion. ia divided in its mind.' He had been amongst themselves for more than a dozen years and they have not sue- j ceeded yet in analysing and formulating him. ' There is nothing against him that anyone knows. He came with the highest recommendations to " old Belshaw " as his assistant, married "old Belshaw's" daughter, succeeded in the natural course of things to " old Belshaw's " business, and having buried both his young wife and her old father, lived on peaceably and prosperously in the sight of all men. Yet there is a vague, floating idea that Mr Serafton and West Mallion have after all little in common. He has, it is rumoured, " London connections," wealthy folk of his own, 'from whom he parted in a boyish whim. | It is certain that he has money at command ; and many a prosperous-looking agriculturist, driving past on a Tuesday with his smart trap and horse, thinks uncomfortably of sundry documents reposing in the safe custody of Mr Seraf ton's strong-box. It is also certain that the ordinary traffic of the shop would not keep-him in board and lodg- ! ing for a day, let alone his stalwart nephew, Robert Belshaw, with whom, on the evening when this story begins .in he was taking a substantial tea in the parlour behind 'j the shop. j The master was engaged [with a scientific review, the apprentice with broiled bam and eggs. The shop dpor-bell gave a faint tingle. Eobert hurried off to attend it, disgustedly, with his mouth full, and Mr Serafton laid down his book and emptied his cup. "Two ladies wish to see you, sir," announced Eobert, returning ; and Mr Serafton, hastening into the dusky shop, bowed to two dusky figures blocking out the light from the doorway. " We've come on private business," said the foremost. Can't you take us somewhere where we can be quiet V "Certainly, madam. Eobert, you may shut up, and then finish your tea. Please step this way." And he ushered the two into a dark little private office looking on the side street. He was not unaccustomed to visits of a [ confidential nature, and had by practice grown expert in taking his clients' measure in the first few rapid glances. In those three short steps from shop to office he noticed the dress, air, and gait of the two women ; and before he had drawn down the window blind and turned up the gas, had made a string of accurate little observations that proved useful later on. "A lady 1" was his comment on the one who had not spoken. " Holds her head high; veil unnecessarily thick ; made the other fall back to let her pass first ; steps well. The j other ? — her maid ? No. Shoulders square ; chest flat ; stride too long for her skirts. Not a woman at all I " He politely handed forward two chairs, | and then placed himself on the far side of his j writing-table, " You are in the habit of advancing j money, Mr Serafton?" the "lady" began in a low tone. I He bowed. " I may have done such a thing in a small way," with a gentle deprecating shrug ; " not in the regular course of my business." "We want a large sum— and at once 1 " broke in the taller figure, impatiently, pushing before the other. " A large sum I Twenty— thirty— did you want as mu^ch as fifty 1" asked the jeweller, .speaking deliberately with intention, while he fixed his keen eyes as if considering on the speaker's face. "It would, of course, depend on circumstances. For instance, on the security you had to offer " Then he mentally ran on : " Dark ; smallfeatured for his size ; round red lips ; left eye-tooth broken off shore ; something marked about the eyebrows ; seen eyebrows like them before — where was it f gipsy hat pulled down well over them." "Fifty!" was the reply, with a scoff. " You do business on a larger scale than that, as we happen to know, sir. Fifty I Fifty hundred would be nearer the mark. Of course we got security: good solid stuff, worth double the amount." He was 'carrying a black leather bag, a fact which Mr Serafton had also duly noted and weighed. " Not his wife, that, else she'd ' have been the one to carry the load." " Look here ! " and he brought it down on the table with an ostentatious bang. Mr Serafton watched him in silence. The bag contained a number of leather cases and some small articles tied up in a silk handkerchief. His client open the first case, and pushed it across to him defiantly. The jeweller 'gazed in speechless wonder. Jewels were the one ardent, absorbing, alldevouring passion of the grave young man's I life. He gazed on the rubies with wondering, ! awe-struck admiration ; touched t-hem with [ tender, dexterous fingers ; held them to the I light ; breathed on them ; inbfred them, aad

laid th»m in their case, still gazing in a sort of devotional ecstasy. "Now, look at these." Next came a cross of emeralds, flawless beyond all his experience, and of a rich, intoxicating depth of colour. Then a set of huge cameos, costly in their day, in a rich, ugly, expensive setting. Then came out of a shabby, old-fashioned case a girlish string of pearls, with a coronet and initials in pearls on the clasp. Followed by a miscellaneous . collection of valuables. ' Mr Serafton turned them over, weighed, handled, and valued. " How much did you want ?" he asked dubiously. "Five thousand." " Quite impossible," he replied decidedly. " That is their utmost value. Then he proceeded to explain, as the two looked at one another disconcerted. " I cannot in any case advance you the monej from my own resources. I know where it is to be got, and am prepared to do the best I can to obtain it for you on reasonable terms. But lam bound to protect myself from any possible risk. I should not take these trinkets, for example, under any circumstances without a clear understanding of how you came to offer them to me. I know these too well to be mistaken in them", — and he fingered the emeralds lovingly — " though I have only met them once before.They, arid all the rest are, I believe, the property of Sir Henry Mallion." The previous speaker, with a low imprecation, brought his fist down violently on the table, but was silenced by his companion, who, stepping forward with much dignity, lifted her veil, saying : " I can satisfy you on j that point, I think. lam Lady Diana Mallion." Mr Serafton bowed profoundly. " Let me understand exactly what you can! do for me. I have immediate need of a large 1 sum of money at once and unknown to my husband. You are aware of Ms condition. I have entire authority to act for him. When, he comes to himself I am convinced he will bear me out in the course which I am pursuing. For the present I desire to keep the matter secret." " Anything I can do to oblige your ladyship " " I want, as you have heard, £5000." " I might manage with the aid of friends to raise as much on your ladyship's personal security." , " That might involve interviews — lawyers —I might die," she said agitatedly. "It 1 would never do. Let me hear what you can , do for me with these. They are all my own. Nothing of Sir Henry's— of my daughter's j oven amongst them. What are they worth ? " " I could negotiate the sale of these for you," he replied, putting aside the rubies and the emerald cross, " but it is a risk. Selling in haste means certain loss." She shook her head. "You hear," she whispered to the other. "Do you expect me to do more for you ? Take the things yourself and make what you can of them." ' "And raise a hue and cry at my heels directly ? Thank you, no, my lady I, I made my conditions pretty distinct, I fancy, and Ij mean to stick to them," he growled sullenly :j j Mr Serafton catching the sense of the wordsj ! by instinct from the fragments of syllables, that reached him. He waited curiously. i " Then there is one more alternative,"' spoke Lady Diana at last. " You know the Mallion diamonds 1 " j The jeweller's eyes sparkled. "Know them j well, my lady ! " ■ " If you nad those, could you raise me the money I want on them ? They are worth more than 10 times the sum." : " They are ; but— excuse me— they are' celebrated stones, heirlooms, I have been 1 given to understand. It would be difficult to pledge them secretly." "There is no need for secrecy. All the world, may know that you have them in keeping-r-' to be cleaned— reset— whatever pretext you like to choose. They are heirlooms, but Sir Henry has no heir — not the moat distant j cousin living on the Mallion side. In default! they were settled on me at the time of our marriage. I may be able to redeem them' before very long" — she caught her companion's eyes fixed greedily on her — "through ,the generosity of a friend to whom I may make my need known," she went on pointedly. With Mr Seraf ton's help, she replaced the valuables in their cases, and laid them aside. Then she divested herself of the long cloak she wore. Underneath was a short dark jacket, which she unfastened and slipped off, and then unpinned her small hat and long veil. Her dark close gown, her high-coiled black masses of hair, were all a-sparkle with fairy light. Bands of diamonds girdled her waist, her neck, her arms ; diamonds blazed in one great starry cluster on her breast, shone from a coronet of lesser stars in her hair. From a small chamois bag she rained out eardrops, pins for thq, hair, clasps, lockets, stray stars to form pendants or brooches at will. The jeweller drew back dazzled at the glittering treasures flashing and;scintillating in the light of his one poor gas jet, but the other bent forward with a deep ejaculation and a face of sudden savage greed. Lady Diana stripped herself of her glistening burden, giving each article, ore by one, to the jeweller, who examined it reverently, in a sort of dumb ecstasy. The Mallion diamonds 1 He could hardly find breath to answer her next words. " Then I suppose you can manage the business for me? Come over to Mallionhay tomorrow, and tell me what lam to do. I am going to leave them here to-night." Both her hearers started, and Mr Serafton felt his knees give way with him. " Why not ? They will be safe here. You can give me a receipt of course. And you," to her companion, " stand over there by the door whilst the list is being made out." Mr Serafton made out his inventory with trembling fingers, and a heart beating wildly with r ipture. He laid each piece of jewellery on a velvet-lined tray as he catalogued it, Lady Diana paying less heed to his proceedings than if it had been a discarded heap of child's playthings. She stood erect and watchful between the diamonds and the form by the door. At the clang of the door of the iron safe she turned. "Is that secure ?" "Perfectly. Burglar and fire proof, my lady,'!

"Good! You will keep a watchman in' the shop." " My nephew Robert shall sleep there." "And a dog who knows his business ?" " I think the last man who found his way into the backyard in an irregular manner was quite satisfied of the fact." " Then you'll want everyone of them this week. Double every precaution that you have ever imagined, and you will still be insecure. Good night." Then, bowing graciously to the amazed young tradesman, she crushed the receipt unread into her pocket and swept out after her companion with undimished dignity. Down the empty. little by-lane the two passed like black shadows, the man slouching along ahead, Lady Diana following leisurely. They passed ont of the town into the -open country, taking short cuts and field-paths till they reached the main road at a cross way, where one arm of the finger-post bore "To Mallionhay," and the other " To London." 11 There's your road," said Lady Diana. "Ah, but suppose I won't take it?" broke out the man fiercely. " Suppose I won't he shipped- off to Australia for the next; year or so ? I've been doing some thinking on. the way,' and I've about decided to stay at home, and spoil your game for you ; as I should like to spoil your sneering face this minute." And he turned savagely on her, his own face white and evil in the moonlight. The disdain on her face deepened a trifle as she answered him composedly : " No, you will not do that, though I am here alone, and not a man within hail. You will not do that, for I am the one person in the world to whom you can turn for help." "Fine help. Call it by its right name. Say you are buying me off and doing - it cheaply." " You will have £3000 paid down. That will be more than' enough to silence all those whom you have reason to fear. Your passage and outfit will be paid for. You will land in Australia as a gentleman, and £100 will be placed in your hands on landing, After fchat you will receive £10 weekly as long as you abstain from annoying us. Do you at picsent see your way to getting better terms for yourself from anyone else ? " " How am I to trust you 1 " " Because it is my interest to keep faith with you. I know lam only keeping cU the evil day for a time, and that some day the money may give out, and my hold over you will cease. But it is for my husband's sake that I stoop so lew as to trade with you thus." He laughed jeeringly. "For Sir Henry's sake solely, of course I We understand each other, madam." Then he drew nearer, his eyes gleaming with an eager light from out his disguise. He spoke in his natural voice now. It was deep and musical, a pleasing voice to listen to, and its tones were f nil of soft persuasiveness. " Why should we be enemies 1 " he asked gently. " You are dealing generously by me ; don't you suppose I might be minded to do the same by you when my turn comes uppermost? Bemember, you have only seen the worst of me. Now you have given me a, chance, and I'll show you I can make the most of it. What's to prevent me being as good a gentleman as another after a year or two in society 1 " " I hope you will— for all our sakes," she said gravely, knowing at the same time how utterly hopeless it was to expect anything 1 like reformation from him. "A gentleman," he repeated eagerly. j " Not a bad one to look at either. Why shouldn't good blood show itself in me as well as another ? Say that I come home in a ! couple of years with a new name and good introductions. Suppose lam content to let my claims on you drop for ever, and ask you to do nothing but keep the secret and give me your friendship ." " Friendship with you 1 " " You'll find it better than my enmity, my lady. If I'm content to leave you undisturbed at Mallionhay and take pretty Muriel, and old Dasent's money as payment in full of all inconvenient demands " Then the scornful composure of her face vanished in flaming wrath. 11 Villain I " she cried. " Dare to take my little daughter's name between your lips again, and I go straight to my husband and take the risk of all I Now go your way." He scowled at her in silence ; then obey- ! ing her fiery gesture turned and slunk away down the white, moonlit road out of her sight. He stopped in the shadow of a tall bit of a hedge-row. The road behind him was empty, but he raised one hand and shook it savagely at the sky over Mallionhay. " You shall pay me back, my lady ! Pay me in full for every word you have uttered this night: Pay me with your diamonds— your girl — Mallionhay ! Ah, and when I have stripped you of all, the score will be still unsettled." The footfall of some chance wayfarer sounded afar through the night's stillness, and he trudged sullenly on towards his destination. (To be continued.)